Dreet-Na shivered again and cursed into the cold evening, the last rays of the day were vanishing and he’d been trudging towards that blasted mountain for as long as he cared to remember. Even though he was practically there he was in a short mood as he would still have to climb seven-thousand steps up the Throat of the World to High Hrothgar. [i]‘Hah – Throat of the World, what a foolish name’[/i] he thought sourly to himself. If Nordic legend were to be believed this is the place where mankind was formed when the sky breathed onto the land. He thought it was funny considering they came from what was once Atmora – a continent to the north of Tamriel. All too conflicting for his tastes, but of course it was possible. 

As he passed over an ornate but clearly aged stone bridge he spotted a watchman stood on the far side, an unmoving sentinel watching over the pass, or so he assumed. As he got closer it soon became clear that the man was not even conscious, in fact his sporadic snoring noises indicated he was sleeping on his feet somehow. Unimpressed Dreet-Na stalked past the man who barley even registered his presence apart from a slight grunt as he continued to sleep. Entering the village of Ivarstead he paused as he spotted the tavern , the sounds of general drunkenness and merriment breaking the otherwise generally silent evening. As much as he would like to stop for a drink and a comfortable bed he knew there were more pressing matters, besides he had everything he needed in his flask. As he turned and headed towards the path that would lead him up the highest mountain in Tamriel he reached into his satchel and pulled out his flask, briefly pausing to examine the daedric inscriptions covering it that he was so fond of before he took a deep swig. Exhaling into the cool air he sighed, the taste of the Cyrodilic brandy making him smile fondly even with the upcoming climb. It also tasted all the sweeter since he hadn’t needed to pay the imperial’s tax since he picked it up in cyrodiil on his way through. Sighing and placing the flash back in his satchel he took the first step towards High Hrothgar and [i]Dovahfeyn[/i]. 

Quite some time later Dreet-Na was towards the top of the mountain where the air was painstakingly thin, the air was freezing and his cloak was damp and covered in snow. He’d passed few on his way up, though he ignored those pilgrims he did. It seemed they were climbing down now, obviously the conditions were only going to get worse. He had paused at each of the ten etched tablets before reading the words carved into them even though he already knew them, just to be able to say it was one more piece of actual history he had touched. Glancing over the side of the mountain he spared a few moments to observe the view, but was not in the mood to appreciate the wonder and simply disregarded it as he continued upwards. Ahead of him a pair of figures came into focus as he trudged closer, one of them was holding something up and examining it – a woman by the looks of it. He assumed they were here for the same reason he was, and so he presumed they may be potential members of [i]Dovahfeyn[/i] and took particular interest in them as he approached. She was thin and wearing leather armour with a pair of small blades at her waste, a hood obscuring her features as she stood shivering. Possibly some kind of rouge he assumed, before flicking his gaze to the man beside her. He was tall and wore what looked to him like something a noble would, clearly having cost more than a few septims. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the cold and hand long hair which matched the snow cascading around them. He would introduce himself to them inside he decided, not wanting to spend a moment longer in the cold. Moving past them without a word he gazed up at High Hrothgar, again not in the mood to be impressed he wasted little time in climbing the final few steps and pushing open the heavy wooden doors before disappearing into the warmth. 

The warmth was much more pleasant than the cold and he finally felt slightly better as he removed his hood before greeting two of the old men whom he assumed were the Greybeards, as well as a woman who wore what he recognised as Akaiviri armour. Interested he assumed then that she was possible a member of the Blades, however they were supposed to have been entirely eliminated by the Thalmor. 

Moving into the room to the right as he was directed Dreet-Na glanced around at the room, some kind of dining hall with a long horse-shoe shaped table in the centre. Numerous fires heated the room and there were several book-cases lining the room, a man seated at the centre of the table waiting. Dreet-Na stared at him for a few moments, examining him. He didn’t look healthy, he decided and hi eyes were a practically fiery red. His armour looked of very good make and quality if not a bit much for Dreet-Na’s tastes. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he decided that he wasn’t a man at all, perhaps once but the air of necromancy seemed to hang thick around him. He had read enough about the darkest powers to recognise such things, and so turning away from the man he began to examine the bookcases and their contents whilst he waited for any others to arrive.